


No Claim on You

by summerstorm



Category: Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: F/M, Female Friendship, Future Fic, Gen, POV Female Character, Vampire/Human Relationship, post-2.02
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-10-07
Updated: 2010-10-07
Packaged: 2017-10-12 15:03:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/126177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/summerstorm/pseuds/summerstorm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anyway, she definitely passes for over eighteen, and she can totally pass for over twenty-one if she plays her cards—well, her clothing and make-up—right.</p><p>"So that gives me at least four years," she concludes. "That's high school, college breaks, a lot of summers, maybe one more year after before I pack up and leave knowing I can't come back until everyone I know is in a nursing home or dead. Great."</p>
            </blockquote>





	No Claim on You

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much to [**empressearwig**](http://empressearwig.livejournal.com/) for the beta job. Title from one of the songs in 2.03—Ashes and Wine, I think, by A Fine Frenzy. This was actually written for a prompt asking for Caroline in Mystic Falls in 2025, but this only covers about four years from now, and less than a fifth of it even happens in Mystic Falls at all, so it seems kind of pointless to mention it.

Caroline's passed for twenty-one before. Which, okay, most of those times the bartender thought she was cute and his lenient approach to carding was a pathetically see-through way of trying to get into her pants, but those are not the people she's counting here. Besides, she can't believe there are really that many guys just willing to be like, whatever, as long as I don't know you're underage, it's okay to get you drunk and grope you, because, no. Caroline doesn't want to believe that.

Anyway, she definitely passes for over eighteen, and she can totally pass for over twenty-one if she plays her cards—well, her clothing and make-up—right.

"So that gives me at least four years," she concludes. "That's high school, college breaks, a lot of summers, maybe one more year after before I pack up and leave knowing I can't come back until everyone I know is in a nursing home or dead. Great."

"I thought you'd be happy to have the chance to move around, make it out of here," Stefan says.

"I am," Caroline says. "But it's different now. Even if I wanted to stay, I can't. It's not an option. I can't even drop by for a visit. It's like bye-bye, hometown, see you next century."

"You can drop in," Stefan says. "You just have to be careful."

"Right. Be a shadow in the night. That really works for me."

Stefan shakes his head. "I'm not saying it's ideal. I'm just saying it's not impossible. And in the meantime, you can travel the world. Live your dreams." He seems amused to say it, but not like he doesn't mean it. "Make it big."

"Is that what you did?" Caroline snaps. Stefan just looks at her patiently, with his stupid _I know it seems rough and you're right that it is but you'll get through it_ face, which is super obvious and annoying, because she does not need to be handheld—gazeheld, whatever—through this, but, well. It is reassuring, so she forgives him. "I'm sorry. I just. I can't make it big now, either. I mean, I can, but I can't, like, get famous, right? Not even local-paper famous. I'd have to go into early retirement and it wouldn't even work, because fifty years later some research nerd would be like, 'Weren't you in that one movie—yeah, that one from 2013, that's—wow, you do not look a day older than you did back them, I guess plastic surgery's really advanced, huh?'"

Stefan laughs softly. "I think if you're really serious about having a career—which I think would be great, by the way—we can probably find you something a little less high-profile than movie star."

Caroline sighs and falls back into the armchair. She's kind of hungry. "I am serious. I want to live my life, you know? Even if saying I just look young doesn't cut it past my mid twenties."

"Okay," Stefan says, nodding, and rises to his feet. "But right now you need to eat."

"Is that your way of saying I'm cranky?"

"That's my way of making sure you never become so desperate for blood you have to jump a person."

Caroline considers it. "That could be a career."

"Caroline."

"Or not," she says. "Maybe PETA will burn us both alive before I get to make a decision."

*

Maybe it's a good thing she's not dating Matt anymore. Like, of course it's a good thing for him, and she cared enough about that to go through with it, so you could argue it was for her own good, too. But, like, if she has to—if she _had_ to keep it, keep _this_ from him while dating him, that would—he'd notice earlier, that she's not aging, and she'd have to break up with him _again_ , and it would hurt even more. Plus, if she were to tell Matt, she'd have to tell him his sister was turned and staked, not the victim of a drug overdose, and she'd inevitably blurt out how awesome it was to become friends with him after Damon did everything he did to her, even though she didn't remember all of it at the time, and—he'd freak out. She couldn't ask him not to. Even Elena freaked out when she found out about Stefan, from what Caroline's heard, and she's like, Saint Elena, Listener and Understander of Pain.

Besides, if he broke up with her over a jealousy fit, then there's probably a minus three hundred in a million chance he'll stick with her through something as creepy and permanent as the fact that she's a vampire.

It's all preemptive heartache, what she's going through right now. It'll be worth it.

*

She sticks to her decision. It's hard sometimes, or more like all the time, watching him talk and flirt with girls who don't care about him half as much as she does, and fearing he'll fall out of love with her and forget she ever meant anything to him and give his heart to Amy Bradley instead, or go back to pining over Elena, or fall for the cute Korean girl the Grill hires as a waitress three weeks before freaking Valentine's Day. If Caroline wanted to believe the world is conspiring against her, this would be her cue.

But Matt deserves a life, an actual life, be-born/grow-up/live/grow-old/die-satisfied, so she makes small talk so he won't think she's even more immature and insane than he already does, and looks or walks away whenever she feels the need to glower at whichever embodiment of that nagging, worm-like _you can't have him and I can_ voice in her head is making eyes at him that week, and that way she keeps him safe.

She keeps him safe when he ignores her, and she keeps him safe when she pretends not to notice him glancing at her, unknowingly trying to coax a confession out of her by looking regretful and love-stricken and miserable. That's the hard part, harder than the pent-up jealousy and the faraway longing. But she sticks to her decision anyway.

*

Bonnie comes around eventually, which in Bonnie terms means she hangs out with Caroline almost as often as they did before Stefan swept Elena off her feet and Mystic Falls out of its relative normalcy, and she doesn't bitch the entire time. Of course, she also tries to pretend Caroline was never turned, but Caroline's learned to tell herself that that just makes it all the more special when Bonnie pierces windows through her denial. Like when she asks Caroline if she lost her ring—what, it's a big ugly thing, if it's night-time and her outfit improves without it, she'll take it off—like it matters to her that Caroline doesn't burn up in the daylight by accident, or when she prompts Caroline to talk about how she's doing with the whole adapting-to-life-as-an-immortal-creature-who-feeds-on-blood thing.

This one time they're having coffee together outside, a couple of weeks into spring weather, and Bonnie says, "So how are you dealing with, you know, the cravings?"

She's halfway through a sip so that it looks almost casual, the way her voice is soft and she looks all concerned and stuff, so Caroline spouts off some crap about the tricks she's learned to quell her thirst when it gets dangerous, and thanks Bonnie for asking.

It's kind of awkward, because she doesn't want Bonnie to freak out or think Caroline thinks Bonnie supports vampirism as a rule now, which means she can't say what she actually means, which is _Thanks for asking like you're concerned about how I'm doing instead of like you're a criminal profiler trying to predict a serial killer's next move_.

But it's not glaringly obvious in a bad way, she doesn't think. She just points out that what she's saying is kind of personal, as an apology, but Bonnie reads it as an accusation and says, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to—"

"No," Caroline says quickly, "it's great to talk about it. It helps. Plus, you know." She gestures vaguely between them, which doesn't really explain anything, but she doesn't feel capable of spelling out how glad she is Bonnie's acting like her friend again. "Anyway, it's really good that you asked. So thanks."

Bonnie kind of ducks her head at that, smiling a little, and it's so great to have her Bonnie back Caroline could cry.

*

They talk about it more often after that. It's totally possible Bonnie's still using denial to tolerate her, like, far be it from Caroline to judge or dismiss anyone's coping mechanisms, but it seems like she's come around. To Caroline, at least, and kind of to Stefan. She still can't be in the same room as Damon without the conversation derailing into stone-cold silence or a yelling match. Caroline gets that.

But one day in the summer, Caroline asks Bonnie if it would be at all possible to make her look older, and Bonnie answers without awkward pauses or wariness or even looking up from the book she's reading, and only with as much bitchiness as a reply to that question would require.

"Like automatic, daily magic Hollywood movie make-up? No."

"Isn't there anything else?" Caroline asks, earnest. Bonnie looks up this time. She doesn't seem irritated by the question. Questions. More like—thoughtful.

"Optical illusions, I guess," Bonnie says after a few seconds of silence, quickly amending, "but I can't put an entire town under a spell, if that's what you're asking."

"Why not?" Caroline says. Bonnie gives her a look. A serious look. "Okay, fine."

This time, Bonnie's face turns apprehensive, and she sighs, leaving a bookmark between the pages she's reading and sliding the book aside to make room for her elbows on the table. "It's not just that I don't want to, Caroline. I can't: the lines are too blurry. I can't apply a spell with an unclear focus. What you're asking—it's not like creating some physical field. It's messing with people's heads. I can't do it in a large scope the same way you can't go up to every single person in town and compel them to not notice the fact you haven't aged. I just can't do it." She looks resigned, mostly, and maybe a little sad for Caroline. Caroline doesn't let it get to her—it was a long shot, anyway. "I'm sorry," Bonnie adds.

And that's that.

*

Matt takes a year off after high school, to save up enough money to not feel like he's choking every day of his college career. He's offered a couple of scholarships, but they don't cover everything he needs them to, and Caroline kind of wants to compel someone into giving him a serious full ride, or get him a free apartment, or even just a room, by any means necessary. Damon taught her how to steal and use credit cards without being caught, and she could always compel some landlord into letting Matt rent a place for free. She doesn't, because she doesn't think that would fly well with Bonnie, or Stefan, or Matt for that matter, but that doesn't mean she doesn't _want_ to.

*

Her freshman year, she drives down to Mystic Falls every other weekend. College life is all well and good, and Caroline's already made a place for herself in various planning-type committees without even living on campus—dorms are kind of an epically bad idea when you need to sneak out at night and/or keep blood in the fridge—but there's this looming feeling over the idea of missing a chance to go home, like it's all going to be new and exciting when she's too old to look seventeen, and she should make the most of being able to walk through Mystic Falls in broad daylight and not worry about who sees her.

She even convinces her mom to invite a lot of people over for Christmas, partly because Damon is actually a better cook than her mom, partly because she misses everyone, and partly because—

"This is about Matt, isn't it," Stefan says, cocking his head and smiling in that way that says, _It's kind of funny that you're so hung up and obvious about it, but it's also very sad and serious and I empathize completely_. "Elena would have invited him over. You didn't have to do all this."

"I wanted to," Caroline says, folding a few napkins. "I like planning things. Besides, I didn't get a chance to talk to Elena about it. Better safe than sorry."

"Sorry about what?" says Elena's voice just behind Caroline, and the door closes.

"Caroline was just telling me she wasn't sure you'd be up for hosting a big Christmas dinner this year."

"I'm just sorry I didn't get a chance to confirm you didn't have anything planned or anything," Caroline adds.

"Oh." Elena frowns, then shakes her head. "No, no, I did Thanksgiving already. Besides, you like hosting things more than I do, so. I'm gonna go keep an eye on Damon. Make sure he doesn't poison our food," she concludes, retrieving her bag from a chair near Stefan and making her way back out.

"So, Matt," Stefan says when Elena's out of earshot. "Do you have it under control?"

"Do I have—Matt under control?" Caroline asks, bemused.

"The hunger," he clarifies. "Wanting to hurt people."

"Don't," Caroline warns. "Don't do that. I can't make him go through all that. I can't make myself go through that kind of— It's Matt. I'm a—" She lowers her voice. "I'm a vampire. First off, he'd have to believe me, and I'd have to tell him about—about Vicki, and Damon, and that time I hurt him, and then he'd stake me, or hate what I am and never talk to me again."

Stefan doesn't say anything, just waits for her to finish. Anything he said would be the wrong thing to say, anyway. He obviously can't tell her to stay away at this point, because he didn't, and Elena loves him and it's all sickeningly okay and, like, Elena found out on her own, and then Stefan just had to confirm or deny. Caroline's not old enough to be randomly recognized by an old lady in front of Matt. She doesn't get that option. So Stefan can't really tell her to just come clean, either. Because he didn't.

"Look, I'm getting over it," Caroline says. "I just need a little more time. I don't want him to feel alone at Christmas, okay? I'll move on."

*

She goes on a supersonically quick emergency hunting trip after dinner. When she comes back and goes upstairs to wash her face and brush her teeth and not look like a complete mess next time someone sees her, she spots Matt in her room.

He's facing the window, and it—it brings back memories Caroline doesn't want to think about.

"Matt?" she says, with one foot still in the hallway. Matt turns around, and he seems—serious, and a little sad, but not immediately wary of her, so she steps in and closes the door behind herself, not quite letting it click shut.

"Hey," Matt says, pausing to look absently at his hands for a moment before facing her again. He smiles, but it looks contrived. "That was a nice dinner. I didn't know Damon could cook."

Caroline shrugs. "Well, he's full of surprises, believe me." That gets a breathy chuckle out of Matt, and she smiles a little. She takes another step forward—they're only, like, two feet away, but she has no idea what stage they're on at this point. They're not boyfriend and girlfriend, obviously, and they're not strangers, but they're not _friends_ , really, not in the kind of active way where she could step in for a hug and he wouldn't be weirded out. He'd hug back, she thinks, but he'd definitely be weirded out too.

They stand in silence for a while, and a couple of times it seems like he might say something—half-opens his mouth like he's going to—or he shifts forward a little, barely, and without moving his feet at all.

It's not awful, but it is pretty awkward, so the third time he decides against opening his mouth all the way and speaking up, Caroline takes a deep breath to ready herself to be a bitch and just _ask_ if he has anything to say to her.

"I think I'm still in love with you," he blurts out before that happens, like the implied _speak now or forever hold your peace_ in Caroline's body language triggered it out of him, and Caroline feels her eyes go wide.

"You—" she begins, but then she realizes she doesn't want to ask. She doesn't want to—she has an answer ready for this that makes it out of her mouth before she can think anything else through, and it pops out of her throat, "Oh my god, me too," just like that, and then she pretty much throws herself at him.

They tip over onto her bed, Matt beneath her, but he catches her. When they kiss, everything comes rushing back, every single reason she wanted him to love her in the first place, every reason she ended things between them but didn't want to. He was always there for her, if not understanding her, at least trying, and she can't—she can't ask that of him again. She can't just destroy the distance she's worked so hard to keep between them. She can't just say, _Hey, besides being neurotic and crazy and jealous, I'm also a vampire_. It'd be like, like putting all the burden of her problems and her decisions on him, on him and on his willingness to accept and understand that. And that's crazy. She can't do it.

"I can't do this," she says, and scrambles off the bed and runs out of her room, runs out of her house.

She doesn't make it back to Mystic Falls the first weekend after Christmas, or the next, or the next. She puts it off over the summer, too, and one day, her mom stops asking when she's coming home.

*

She picked a college near Mystic Falls, so she could go down there often, but now that she never does, it opens up a world of possibilities.

When she calls Stefan, he sounds surprised, but he doesn't ask questions about what brought this on. He gives her some options, like it's this totally casual thing Caroline's considering just for kicks.

"You need anything else?" he says when he's done, and she tells him she's good, and asks after Elena.

Three seconds later, Stefan's handed her the phone.

"Caroline?" she says, and Caroline starts sobbing. She had no idea she was going to. It's so stupid. "Caroline, what's wrong?"

Before the month's up or she's even started the transfer paperwork, Caroline's moved in with her.

*

Elena and Stefan live sort of together but not really, which is a pretty weird thing to be caught in the middle of. Stefan found this oldish, kinda big house a thirty-minute drive from campus, and it has _wings_ , and they do this thing where they pretend like they don't live together by staying in their respective wings at least half the time, and keeping the majority of their things in their respective rooms even though Elena sleeps in Stefan's, like, nine nights out of ten. Caroline doesn't know if that was always the case, but her room is in Elena's side of the house, so she's kind of thankful Stefan doesn't drop by Elena's room, like, ever. Supernatural hearing is bad enough when it's not wall to wall.

Anyway, it's fine, as living arrangements go, and it makes a lot of things easier than when she was on her own, but it's still weird, being caught in the middle, alone.

Sometimes, though, Bonnie comes up for the weekend, and at least she has some company.

"Sometimes I really hate myself for coming here and rubbing my nose in it," Bonnie tells her one time at dinner, in that way where it sounds like a ritual, like something she says every time she gets a chance because she just can't help herself, "but most of the time I just hate Stefan for being a show-off."

"Now, I offered to help you with funding if you wanted to get a better place."

"Thanks, but I like my loans—I can't in good conscience apply the word 'honesty' to a bank, but I do prefer my loans to be definitely, no-doubt-about-it legal."

"You don't know that my savings were achieved in a dishonest or illegal way," Stefan points out. "Besides, I got this house for Elena."

Caroline groans inwardly, except apparently she also does out loud. Oops. "That is the worst excuse ever. It gets worse every time you use it."

"I don't _use_ —"

"You kind of do," Elena says fondly.

"Now you guys are ganging up against me?" Stefan says, smiling. It's never going to stop being weird to see him smile. "Do you really think that's fair?"

"I don't know if it's fair," Elena says, "but it is pretty fun."

There's—okay, Caroline has kind of a lot to drink after that, definitely, but she's pretty sure she's not the only one, so basically, a lot is drunk that night, and at one point, in her room, Caroline asks Bonnie if there's still no way to make her look older, just temporarily, and Bonnie climbs on her bed, kneels up and grabs Caroline by the shoulders as she says, "Don't you think I'd tell you if there were?"

"Well—"

"Caroline," Bonnie says. It sounds like a warning. "Trust me, there is no way for you to become human again. You died. You can die again. But I can't make you human."

"That's not what I—" Caroline begins, but Bonnie shakes her head so firmly it makes Caroline stop talking midsentence.

"It is, and it can't be done, and you need to accept that. I'm saying this as your friend," and then her arms are moving and she's pulling Caroline into a hug. "I know I haven't been the best one since you—I know I haven't been the best friend, but I'm not stupid."

When she breaks away, Caroline says, "You should stay here tonight. My intentions are pure."

"And you don't trust me not to fall on my face on the way downstairs."

"That too."

"Can't be worse than my dorm room," Bonnie says, tugging the covers down and crawling in. "Scoot over."

*

The next time Bonnie sleeps over, there's not a drop of alcohol involved.

"It's nice, sharing a room with someone I actually like," Bonnie tells her. "Even if it's a vampire who could kill me in my sleep." It's not like they planned it—they were just talking and it got late and it was just easier for Bonnie to sleep in Caroline's bed.

That and, well, Caroline may be a vampire, but she does get lonely sometimes, third wheeling aside, and having Bonnie not only around, but warm and present in her bed? It's pretty comforting. She hadn't even realized how much she missed it.

*

Caroline finds herself an internship for the summer as an excuse to give Elena and Stefan whenever they ask things assuming she's coming back to Mystic Falls with them.

She likes the internship, too, and it'll probably look good on her current resume, which she estimates will be useful for another six or seven years before she can't risk a prospective employer checking up on credentials she acquired when she was already the age she's pretending to be. Mostly, though, it's an excuse.

She tries to call her mom every day, because it's not her mom's fault Caroline imposed an early exile on herself or that her daughter's a vampire while she's still the town sheriff and thus can't just wash her hands of hunting vampires. Caroline gets that someone has to do it, and that's one of the reasons she decided to leave early. You can't hunt vampires very well if you're worried you'll lead an expedition to your daughter. But she doesn't tell her mom that last part. That someone has to do it, though, that's a constant. Maybe her neuroses have something to do with her mom's need to hear over and over and over that Caroline doesn't hate or resent her for doing her best to be a danger to Caroline's kind.

"'Kind' is a very strong word, mom," she says. That's also a constant.

"I know," her mom says, and then comes the, "But I still miss you. You should come by sometime. I'm not the only one who'd like to see you."

It makes it harder to stay away, Caroline thinks, but it also makes it easier.

*

Bonnie calls every other week, and mentions in passing that her mom misses her and she's not the only one _every single time_.

It's like a freaking conspiracy. If she doesn't think too hard about it, it actually helps her miss them all less.

*

Then, one cloudy August afternoon, the conspiracy marches up her front steps and knocks on her door.

She has friends here, but they're all either home for the summer or on holiday halfway around the globe or they'd call before showing up, if only to ask for her address—not that she's hard to find, but there's blood in the house, and although she lives there, she always feels kind of weird letting people in that Stefan and Elena have never met. That's why she assumes it's the conspiracy: Bonnie, probably, in an attempt to keep her company and escape the trials of having been home for long enough that people have forgotten they missed you. Or maybe Stefan, checking up on her. They've both casually dropped the possibility in conversation recently. The point is, it all amounts to the same thing.

She just—out of all the people in Mystic Falls who could do it, she definitely doesn't expect Matt to be the one who shows up unannounced on her doorstep.

"Matt," she says, blinking. "What are you—what are you doing here?"

He shoves his hands in his pockets, and looks around for a second, like he's getting up the courage to say something a little deeper than the "Can I come in?" that makes it out.

"Sure," Caroline says, still confused, and shuts the door behind him.

"Bonnie told me you were here. And that you'd maybe like to see me," he says, quickly, before she's all the way facing him. "Not—in those exact words, but I think that's what she meant."

"Okay," Caroline says, frowning and tilting her head.

He takes a deep breath. "I wanted to give you a chance to tell me you didn't run out on me because you thought I couldn't handle this."

"I'm sorry?"

"Actually, Bonnie's exact words were," and his voice shifts into a monotone, "'Caroline's still pining over you. She thinks you don't know. If you don't tell her, I will.'"

"That bitch," Caroline says automatically, because you do not interfere like that, and just as Matt's saying, "Witch, actually, I think is the correct term," she asks, stupidly, "Don't know what?" and then, on her way from confused to moderately pissed, "You _know_?"

"I do," Matt says, face halfway between a worried frown and a sheepish, earnest smile. "It took me a while to put it together..." He trails off, and then he shakes his head. "I didn't even— Tyler got drunk and told me everything. It sounded crazy, so I didn't believe any of it at first, but then it just—clicked. Into place. And it involved a lot of people I cared about, so I—I tried not to judge too fast. All that stuff that'd just been going on under my own nose, it was, it had been going on for a—a _while_ , and Elena was caught by _choice_ in the middle of all of it. I just couldn't—"

"You thought it would be better for everyone if you didn't get involved," Caroline supplies.

"Yeah," Matt says, softly. "And then I saw you. Christmas."

"Wait," Caroline says, and takes a step back. "Wait, you knew at Christmas? And you didn't—"

"I _tried_ ," Matt says. "I wanted to, but then you just ran off before I could get another word in. I thought you'd moved on or that it was worth it for you to stay away."

"Oh, my God," Caroline says, turning on her heels and running a hand through her hair, "I'm getting a headache," and walks off to get a drink. Matt follows her. She pulls out a chair at the kitchen table and drops down on it. "I'm having this weird flashback to being compelled. Like everything makes sense but somehow nothing really does."

"You got compelled? By who?"

Caroline rolls her eyes.

"Damon?" Matt asks, and she shrugs. "That sucks."

Caroline straightens up. "Can't suck more than the fact you kissed me—told me you _loved_ me—when you already knew about this. When you already knew I was a vampire. Vampire. Dangerous. Why would you do that?"

"What did you want me to do? I was—I _am_ —"

"You're what, Matt? Think very hard about what you're gonna say, because if it's that you're still in love with me, you might as well shut up, because it's not gonna get us anywhere."

"I'm willing to give this a try," Matt says, straight-faced and almost solemn, watching her intently. "I want to." She almost laughs, just to release some tension. She does giggle a little. "What's funny?"

"Nothing," Caroline says, taking a deep breath, then another. "Wow, okay." She stands to pour herself the drink she came here for. She considers getting a glass of blood in front of him instead, just to see if he freaks out. It's kind of a package deal, now, her and her vampirism. If he can't deal with that, they might as well figure it out right now.

"Are you thinking about drinking blood right now?" Matt says. She frowns, but doesn't look back at him. "You can. If you want. I know what I'm getting into. I've had a long—a really long time to think about it."

Caroline laughs, relieved. She's not actually that hungry, and it'd be probably be counterproductive anyway. If this is going where she thinks it's going, there's probably going to be a kiss somewhere within the next hour. "Trust me, you don't want my mouth to taste like blood right now," she tells Matt, and grabs her drink and sits down again. Matt's still hovering over the chair to her left. She doesn't ask him to sit down.

"Your mom misses you," Matt says after a few seconds of silence. "We all do, but she really, really does."

"It's not like she can't come up here."

"It kind of is. I don't think she knows she's welcome."

Caroline feels the muscles of her face adapt around her scowl. "You can't be serious."

"I am," Matt says, completely unironic. "All I'm saying is, you should add that to your pro-con list."

"What pro-con list?"

"The one detailing why you should or should not ever set foot in Mystic Falls again, I guess."

Caroline snorts. "There is no such list."

"I bet it's in your head somewhere."

"You know what's in my head?" Caroline says, strongly, even though she's not particularly offended. It's just fun. "A pro-con list on whether I should continue dating you. I guess now it's about whether I should start dating you again. Mentioning my mom before I've even processed the rest of this conversation? That's going under Not."

Matt smiles at that, which means he knows she's kidding, which means—nothing, really, except that he's smiling fondly at her, affectionate, and her heart is so in it it's not even funny. "Do you still have jealous breakdowns?" he asks, but it doesn't sound like an accusation.

"I don't know," Caroline says softly, switching to honest. "I haven't had anyone to get jealous over. Why? You plan on dating other people at the same time as me? Because I'm not sure I like that idea."

"Not at all. Talk to other people, yes, but not date them. But you may see a lot more of me."

"What do you—"

"I'm starting college here," he says, "in the fall. I'm on the other side of campus from you, so you wouldn't have to see me all that much if this didn't pan out, but. It's kind of a done deal.

Caroline leans back in her chair and looks at him. "So, I should take you off the list of reasons to not drop by Mystic Falls?"

"That would be a good thing."

"Are you still taking vervain?" Caroline says, pulling her chair out and rising to her feet. "I mean, you should be. But if you're carrying any, I'd rather not get burned."

Matt reaches into the pocket of his shirt and takes out a little branch.

"Don't worry, I don't plan to hurt you."

"I wasn't worried," Matt says firmly, and holds out the vervain, like he's—giving it to her?

"I can't touch that," she snaps, and his eyes widen. He rubs his face with his hand and leaves the vervain on the corner of the table furthest from her. He looks—he looks embarrassed.

"I'm sorry," he says, "I'm so sorry. I totally blew it, didn't I?"

"Blew what?"

"That was supposed to be a—little, grand gesture, I guess. I didn't realize—I just didn't think it through." He's ducking his head and flustered and it's _adorable_ and Caroline steps into his personal space before even deciding to.

"Story of my life," she says, as quiet as their current closeness calls for, and stands on her tiptoes. "I'll match you. I won't think this through."

She's supposed to tilt her head up and kiss him, now, but before she does, Matt's hands are cradling her face and his mouth is on hers.

It's nothing like any other time she remembers kissing him. It's more than a little rough, desperate, but it's also contained, like the kiss knows it's not a last one and it can relax and have fun and be content and full of anticipation.

The last time they kissed, it was like a last effort, like being trampled under a dead weight neither of them was strong enough to carry. The time before that, she'd been new and hungry and nearly killed him.

This time, they're in control, and she can feel it everywhere.

"I should head back," Matt says when they break apart.

"What? Why?"

"I should head back with you. I'm under strict orders to bring you home with me."

"Whose strict orders?"

Matt laughs. "Yours," he says, and Caroline cocks her head expectantly. "Come on, you know you want to. And for such a good cause, I will put my pride aside and let you boss me around."

"What pride?" she says, grinning, and kisses him again, because she _does_ want to go home, she misses Mystic Falls, ridiculously enough, and her family and seeing all her old friends in one place at one time, but she's nowhere near desperate enough to say any of that out loud. She tears herself away after about three seconds, though, because that's not the only thing going through her mind that could be voiced. "So, wait, let me get this straight: you're manipulating me into letting you rescue-trip me?"

Matt shrugs. His smile is tinged with amusement, and apparently also contagious.

"Okay," Caroline decides, putting on a serious face, "can it wait till morning?"

"As long as you don't plan on changing your mind overnight," he says, stealing a kiss halfway through so that she can barely make out the last of his words, mumbled into her mouth as they are.

She puts her hands on her chest and pushes him back a little, just long enough to say, "I don't."

"Then I don't see why not," he answers, and drags her hands down with his so he can lean back in.


End file.
